


Sweet talker

by Miss_Kitten



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Kitten/pseuds/Miss_Kitten
Summary: While locked in Mirkwood’s prison, Thorin and reader share a moment of truth.





	Sweet talker

You can’t let that happen. You cannot give away your freedom without putting a fight. You cannot be indifferent and allow those elves to shove you into a cell and close it behind your back.

With a wild growl, you charge at the bars, the guard who is locking your cell, glancing at you with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Fear is winning, much to your happiness.

“What are you looking at, pretty boy?” you tease, showing your teeth in a nasty smile. He gulps but doesn’t back away, probably too embarrass to admit a human girl scared him.  

“Huh? Never saw a girl among dwarves?” taunting, you lean against the bars, gripping them into your hands. The guard gulps, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your rather aggressive demeanor.

You don’t intend to stop. You are driven by dread and disappointment, by desperation and you wish for everyone to know that you will not calmly sit in the cell while the time for arriving at the Mountain is running short.

There was a part of you that didn’t believe that you would make it, but it’s long gone now. Hadn’t it been for the spiders and then elves, you would have been now leaving Mirkwood behind and nearing Erebor with every step.

But, of course, those lithe, tall race with ever indignant expression had to come to your rescue, as they probably saw it, and then punish you for trespassing. Just as you though you could somehow manage to avoid them.

You never liked Elves. Your father always said that they were a proud, selfish race and it was better to ask anyone else for help, even Dwarves. Many times, because of your naivety, you were proved that your father was right, and, much like Thorin, you didn’t trust the elves, regardless where they lived.

Therefore, your hostility towards that guard, in your head, is undeniably understandable.

“Y/N,” your name reaches your ears as you are about to snap at the elf again. You frown, your eyes gliding around to seek whoever called for you.  

“Y/N,” rings again, the voice deep and honey-like and you recognize Thorin. You smile almost unnoticeably and the guard uses your distraction to step away quickly.

Fortunately for you, by walking away, the guard revealed Thorin’s cell, which is located opposite yours. You tilt your head to the side, resting it against the bars, listening as Thorin says something in a language you don’t know.

Experimentally, you try to waggle the bars, only to find it impossible to move them even in the slightest.

Thorin speaks up again, as if cooing and you sigh, focusing your gaze at him.

“I don’t understand, Thorin,” complain, the corners of your lips tugging down and he lets out an airily laugh.

“But it worked. You stopped.”

“Couldn’t you just say in Common Speech?”

“I assumed that Khuzdul would have a stronger effect on you. And my assumption was correct, as we can see.”

“It would be better if I understood what you were saying.”

“I only asked you to let it go. There is no point in fighting the guards.”

“I want out, Thorin. I don’t want to be stuck here and watch as Durin’s Day passes by. We only have one chance,” you say miserably as you carefully lower yourself onto the ground, sitting with your legs crossed, still looking at Thorin.

“I’m aware of that, Y/N. We will make it.”

“You sound very sure.”

“That’s because I am sure. Bilbo will come and free us.”

“You have a lot of faith in our burglar,” you state, smiling. It’s reassuring, calming that Thorin believes in the hobbit, convinced that Bilbo won’t leave you all to rot in Mirkwood’s dungeons.

“Aye,” he replies simply and a silence falls between the two of you.

You can hear the rest of the Company, barking, shouting or talking at other levels of the prison, making you glad that they are fine, well enough to be voicing their emotions. It’s a good sign.

“Tell me something more. In Khuzdul,” you ask, feeling as anger leaves your body. You now feel weaker, filled with fear of the unknown, worry about your fate and for some reason, Dwarvish language gives you courage.

Thorin obliges to your request, speaking few words. They sound a bit harsh, yet the softness in this tone makes you warm inside.  

“It means ‘your eyes are as beautiful and deep as a lake’.”

“Do you think so?” you jest, quirking your brow and much to your surprise, Thorin looks bashful. It’s very unlike his usual royal, strong manner but you must admit that you like seeing him like that. Finally showing more emotions.

“I do, yes,” he admits and it’s followed by more Khuzdul words. You bite at your bottom lip, eager to learn what they mean.

“Your skin is softer than rose’s petals.”

“Thorin…” you start but he cuts you off by another statement. Thorin evidently grows more confident in every word and you soon see that his eyes light with passion.

“I find you perfect and astonishing. No gem can ever compete with the color of your eyes.”

Captured by his words, you don’t notice when the prison fell silent, a sign that, most likely, everyone else are asleep. Your heart quickens, your hands tremble and you wish you weren’t locked in a cell so far from his. You would give everything to be able to run to Thorin right now.

“I yearn to kiss your lips,” he continues, his eyes boring into yours, full of fondness and warmth you didn’t expect him to carry.

“I want that, too,” you keenly add, unable to stay quiet. Thorin inhales sharply and growls, gripping the bars so firmly you can see his knuckles turn white.

“Amrâlimê…” he breaths out, a longing note in his voice and you whine.

“Should we be out, in the first favorable moment, I will allow you to kiss me, Thorin. I will make sure you do it. It will happen.”

“So, you do feel the same, Y/N?”

“Aye, most ardently. I want nothing more than to be able to touch you now, Thorin.”

“Soon, my darling, soon.”

“May I know for how long were you keeping it a secret?”

“Since our stop in Rivendell. There, I realized how I feel about you.”

“Oh, you should’ve told me earlier…”

“I wanted to ask you once we reclaimed Erebor. I wanted to ask you to stay with me. Would you… do you think it can happen?”

“Most certainly. I’ll stay. Valar know I wish to so much!”

“Nothing makes me more happy, Y/N. To hear that you want it, too.”

“Thorin,” you call, closing your eyes for a moment and sliding your arm between the bars as far as you can, in a foolish attempt to reach him. You know it’s impossible and stupid but you can’t help it.

Thorin does the same, but the distance is too long and so the two of you grunt with frustration.

Out of sudden, a movement on your left startles you. Shocked, you notice the guard that locked you in not so long ago. He presses a finger to his lips, giving you a sign to be quiet and you nod, watching as he opens the door to your cell and leans in.

“You’re allowed to have one minute with him. But be quiet.”

“Thank you,” you say gratefully as you hesitantly step out, the elf following you close. It feels surreal but at the same time, very much real and without thinking twice, in two steps you close the distance between you and Thorin’s cell, falling on your knees when you reach it.

“My love,” he whispers affectionately as he cradles your face in his callused, warm hands and all you can say is his name before he leans in and pressed his lips to yours.

It doesn’t matter that you have very little time. The passion and love the both of you pour into the kiss is enough to make up for all that time neither of you said a thing.

And it means everything to you.


End file.
